Amongst The Flowers
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: For every important moment, the defining setting is the beautiful garden where he sits amongst the flowers. Brief mentions of AlScor.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for the One Character Competition using the following list of prompts.**

 _A story that spans over 70 years of your character's life._

 _Title - Amongst The Flowers._

 _Your Character is dealing with a family tragedy._

 _Cerulean / Code / Childhood home._

* * *

 **Amongst The Flowers**

* * *

His robes flapped around his knees as he ran around, his endless energy fuelling him as he twisted and twirled around his father's legs.

"Lucius, calm down," Abraxas murmured, running a hand through his son's hair as the little boy ran past. "Come, sit among the flowers with me," he added, gesturing his son over to the bench.

Lucius pouted for a moment before following his Father, raising a hand to clutch at the larger one being offered to him. Abraxas led them both to the bench, stepping carefully to ensure he didn't catch any of the vibrant flower beds.

They settled onto the bench, Lucius looking up at his father, waiting for story time to begin. This was a ritual, one they'd followed since Lucius was old enough to toddle around the Manor after his father, clinging to the bottom of his robes.

"Where did we leave off last time, Son?" Abraxas asked, knowing exactly where he'd left, but testing to see if his son remembered.

A short attention span was a frailty of childhood, but Abraxas was almost positive that Lucius would remember.

"Great, Great, Grandfather Septimus, Father," Lucius replied promptly, already hanging off his father's every word.

"Good lad," Abraxas replied with a small smile. With a deep breath, and a brief clearing of his throat, Abraxas launched into the continuing tale of the Malfoy family tree, enjoying telling his son his heritage.

* * *

Seventeen year old Lucius collapsed against the bench, thankful for the freedom that solitude afforded him. He'd fought his grief all day, all week if he was being honest with himself, and as the tears finally fell unchecked down his face, he felt the weight he'd been carrying lessen slightly.

"I miss you, Father," he told the flowers quietly. "It's… You weren't done teaching me. I'm not ready to be the head of the family. I still need you."

Silence answered him, as he'd known it would. He sat there until his eyes dried up on their own, until he regained control of his emotions, and straightened himself out.

The wake of his father's funeral was awaiting his arrival, and he knew he must be impeccable. His father would expect nothing less of him.

Standing from the bench, a sudden wind swept around him, and a ghost of a familiar voice whispered, "You'll never be alone, when you sit amongst out flowers, Lucius."


	2. Chapter 2

Her hand felt dainty and fragile in his, and he held it as delicately as he would a flower as he led her through the gardens of Malfoy Manor. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he was up to, but with her usual grace, she followed him without complaint.

"I grew up here, running through these grounds and learning my family history at my father's knee," he murmured as they walked slowly towards the bench he'd spent much of his younger years sitting on.

It had remained a sacred place for Lucius.

"The gardens are beautiful," Narcissa replied, and Lucius took a moment to admire the spark in her bright eyes, and the way her cerulean robes swept the grass as she walked. She was truly a vision.

"I thought they were the most beautiful sight I'd ever known, until I laid my eyes on you," he uttered, his heart fluttering when her lips tilted up into a charming smile.

He seated her on the bench, remaining standing himself as he looked around.

"Many of the most important conversations I've ever had have been here," he told her, his voice mingling with the sounds of birds chirping around him, the wind a mere gentle breeze against their skin, welcome in the warm heat of the summer.

Narcissa listened to him talk, never taking her eyes off him.

"I believe this is the most important question I've ever asked," he added, dropping to one knee in front of her as he took the ring from his robes. "Narcissa Black, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

The affectionate smile on her face answered him before her words did, but the confirmation of "It would be _my_ honour, Lucius," was still very welcome.

* * *

Lucius walked slowly through the gardens, watching the young boy running around as he himself once had, his robes flapping around his ankles.

"Draco, calm down, Son. Come, sit with me amongst the flowers. It's time I begun to teach you about your family history."

He saw the pout on the small face and hid his smile.

His son was very much the same as he'd been at that age. It left him wistful for the uncomplicated days of sitting at his father's knee.

The flowers had bloomed beautifully as always, and Lucius led his son carefully through the flower beds, the feeling of deja vu both sad and wonderful.

Settled on the bench, he looked down at his son, a small smile on his face. "We'll begin with Armand Malfoy…"


	3. Chapter 3

The day dawned bright and beautiful, mocking in a way, when one thought of what was to be done. The formal robes had been donned, hair perfectly arranged, somber greetings exchanged and sympathies given.

"Are you okay?"

Messy black hair was the first thing Scorpius saw, and he offered a small smile.

"As okay as I'm going to get today, I think," Scorpius replied quietly. "Thanks for being here, Al."

"As if I'd be anywhere else when you needed me," Albus scoffed, squeezing his boyfriend's hand. "The others are all here too. We called a code black. We'll sit at the back, but you'll know we're here."

Scorpius shook his head, slightly amused that Albus was still using the colour code they'd had in school for when one of their friends had a problem or needed them.

"You'll sit with me. My father accepts you, as does my grandmother. You know that, Al."

"Scorpius," a voice called, the two young men turning to find Draco walking towards them. His hair was receding slightly, but he wore it long as his father had done before him, and he looked elegant in his formal black robes.

"Albus, thank you for coming," Draco murmured, squeezing Al's shoulder briefly. "You'll sit with us today," he added. "Scorpius, your grandmother has decided to accede to your wishes. As much as tradition dictates that my father should be laid to rest in the family tomb, we both believe you're correct when you say that he would have preferred to be amongst the flowers he adored throughout his life."

Scorpius felt tears filling his eyes and he reached out to grip his dad in a tight hug, one that was returned immediately.

"Thank you, Dad," he whispered.

"You're not the only one with memories of him there," Draco replied quietly. "He taught me the history as he taught you, seated on that bench."

Scorpius nodded. "I know. He told me I reminded him of you as a child, eager to learn the history of the family but more eager to run around chasing butterflies."

Draco cracked a smile.

"He lived a hard life, your grandfather, and we may not have agreed on everything, but he knew how to appreciate beauty. I'm glad that of everything he could have passed onto you, it was that."

* * *

Scorpius gripped Albus' hand tightly in his, following behind his grandmother and his parents. They'd chosen to keep this private, and Scorpius was glad of that. He could only imagine how his grandfather would feel about people trampling all over his beloved flowers.

It was his grandmother that spoke, her voice soft but strong as she lifted her wand.

"For eighty one years, this place was your safe haven, Lucius. May it always be, as we lay you to rest amongst the flowers. We love you, darling."

Albus wrapped his other arm around Scorpius as Narcissa spelled the ashes to spread over the flowerbeds, comforting his heartbroken boyfriend as he sobbed into his robes.

Draco nodded to him, a small smile on his face, as eventually, the two of them were left alone. When Scorpius was cried out and exhausted, Albus whispered to him that it was time to return to the manor. They could curl up in bed together and rest.

An unexpected wind swept around them, and Albus heard a softly spoken whisper in a familiar voice, "Look after my grandson."


End file.
